Erin, I'm Sorry

Air gets an almost thickened feeling when it's humid enough, and on the final night before vacation, the air around Johnny Tyler's sleepy little burg was downright sultry. He could have gone anywhere, but he was taking the misses on an overdue honeymoon. Ten days of white sandy beaches, ocean breezes, and blue waters awaited them. He was excited that he finally had the time.

Erin was packing while Johnny finished his shift. She knew he'd be late. He was always late. It was that commitment that she respected about her husband. As she sipped a glass of wine and slowly packed their bags, she was looking forward to their romantic getaway. They'd been married a year, and what a year it had been. The postponed honeymoon came with a rookie cop. She knew they were young, and they had their whole lives ahead of them.

As Erin folded cargo shorts into Johnny's bag, she missed the sounds of footsteps behind her. The rag, soaked in chemicals, was suddenly held across her nose and mouth as she struggled briefly. Erin watched in horror as things got darker. She felt her body slowly going limp in someone's arms.

When Erin opened her eyes, she was staring up at the ceiling lights over her dining room table. She'd been tied to it. She tried to scream, but the gag kept her from being loud enough to get anyone's attention. Then, she saw him.

Her attacker loomed over her, wearing a dark ski mask. He was dressed mostly in black, except for the denim jeans. He wore black leather gloves. She looked at him, struggling against her bonds, as he walked around the table singing to himself. Erin felt the fear in the back of her throat. She knew enough to know that she was in danger.

When the masked man stopped at the side of the table, taking a large knife from its sheath, Erin tried as hard as she could to scream. She thrashed around on the solid oak table, desperate to get her arms free, to fight for her life. It all seemed to feed the maniac as he made weird, almost childish sounds, shaking the knife in front of her.

He pushed down on her waist, cutting through her T-shirt, exposing her body. She feared he was going to rape her. Tears formed in her eyes, running down her young, porcelain-like skin. But her attacker wasn't interested in sexualizing her. His needs were far simpler than rape.

As he lay the edge of the blade against her abdomen, marveling at the contrast between steel and flesh, he dragged the razor-sharp edge from her belly button to her sternum. It left a superficial cut, but one that he relished. As Erin tried to plead for her life through her gag, he dragged the blade along her skin again. He kept doing it until the pain was so much that Erin passed out.

Johnny had stopped at the local store. When he rolled up his driveway in his black Explorer, parking off to the side of Erin's Toyota, he didn't have a care in the world. He'd checked in with the duty officer, cleared up everything that needed to be done, and was free for the next three weeks. After a year of overtime and saving every extra day off he could, he'd finally be able to give Erin what she wanted the most.

The house was dark when he walked in, but he imagined she was upstairs. As he went from the front of his house toward the kitchen, Johnny suddenly stopped. He turned toward the dining room, seeing Erin strapped to the table that her parents bought them as a wedding present.

Johnny pulled his sidearm from the holster on his hip. He looked around as he approached his wife's body. His hands shook as he stared at her, knowing the harshest reality he'd seen since becoming a cop. He stood at the side of the table, putting his hand on her face, but struggling not to lose his dinner. What had been done to his sweet Erin was ungodly. There was no way for him to describe it. Not then, not later.

"NO, baby," he sobbed as he laid his weapon down and reached for his phone.

It was only ten minutes later when he was sitting on his front porch, and his lieutenant was beside him, his hand on his shoulder. There were dozens of cops, four investigators, the coroner, an ambulance, and a rescue squad crew at his house. The flashing lights on the different vehicles lit up the night as he sat there, smoking the first cigarette he'd had since college.

"Listen, Johnny, I know it's hard, but you have to tell me what happened," insisted his lieutenant.

Johnny stared into the distance, his mind racing, rage-filled, and lost. He tried to focus long enough to talk to his boss. It all seemed so impossible.

"I got home. Brought flowers with me. I walked in and was going to get a bottle of water," he said, letting out a sigh. "That's when I...."

"And you didn't see anybody? Were there any cars leaving the area? Did you notice or hear anything out of the ordinary?"

Johnny cried. He had nothing to offer them.

"Johnny," a woman's voice called to him.

It sounded a thousand miles away. He was hearing his name from somewhere. Johnny stood up on his porch, hearing someone call to him. He could hear his lieutenant asking him what he was doing, but he was obsessed with the sound of his name coming from the distance.

Johnny walked through the crowd of officers to the center of the street. As he stood in the street, turning toward the voice calling for him, he dropped to his knees in horror. Johnny thought he'd snapped. There she was, his wife, standing in the middle of the street, her body covered in blood.

He nearly ignored his lieutenant's voice as the older officer tried to get Johnny to snap out of it. He kept saying the same thing over and over again.

"Erin, I'm sorry, baby. I'm so sorry..."

"Honey, wake up."

Johnny felt someone shaking him. He popped straight up into a seated position. The sun blinded him. Johnny looked around, sweat dripping down his cheeks. His heart was pounding so hard he could feel his body moving with each beat.

"Jesus," laughed Erin. "What did you do that you're that sorry about?"

He was at the pool, at the resort where he planned to stay for their honeymoon. Slowly, as he took it all in, he realized it was just a nightmare. He grabbed Erin and hugged her so hard she told him he was "smooshing" her.

"I'm sorry I didn't get this done sooner," he told her, smiling as he stared into her eyes.